


In death, he has a name.

by gwmclintock88



Series: Across the Whedonverse [6]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Firefly, Serenity (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Somewhere other than the Earth-that-was, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Whedonverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-23
Updated: 2015-04-23
Packaged: 2018-03-25 10:26:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3806926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwmclintock88/pseuds/gwmclintock88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spike never expected to live as long as he did. But the wheel kept turning and he kept moving on. Waiting for the day he would meet her (or him, he wasn't judgmental) and he could feel the sun for the first time in centuries. </p><p>He hadn't expected to meet her in the middle of a fight, but that certainly reflected his life so far.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In death, he has a name.

**Author's Note:**

> Story takes place well after Season 7 of Buffy (I haven't read all the comics so I can't comment on that) and during Serenity. I've taken some liberties with some things, but I think it plays well with the established lore for both series. 
> 
> Enjoy.

Nasty buggers. This century seemed to be filled with them. Of course humanity had to spread its dirty little paws to the stars. Vampires may eat them but no one could destroy a planet like humans. Hell, even Illyria never managed that particular feat.

Spike pushed his way through the throng of people. Thankfully, it was nightfall, and he could move about. Usually, he’d have a ship or something, but well, that one kind of managed to crash several miles outside of town, kind of like that pirate guy from the 21st century. Not that his name mattered or anything. No one was alive to remember it anyway. It was hell getting old. And the Shanshu prophecy may not have been crap, but it still rankled him.

Angel’s words popped up nearly two hundred or so years ago, lucky bastard. Met his mark, and “pop” – there goes mortality and all its chains. Buried the man back on the Earth-that-was, along with his wife and three kids. Some great, great grand kids were hopping about these skies or at least, he hoped so. Most of Scoobies kids were out here too….somewhere. Just left good ole Spike from the Earth-that-was along with the rest of the dregs of demons.

Yeah, even they managed to get the hell off planet, or dimension as most did. Again, most humans did more damage than the demons, and well, watching these inners fight the outers across the planets only reinforced it. Unification was a joke. Didn’t work for Britain, and certainly wasn’t going to work on planets. No matter if they ‘won’ the war, the wheel in the sky kept on turning.

“Hey, watch it,” he shoved a guy backward. The man tripped arse over teakettle and knocked a few of his mates to the floor. Even if he did find his mark, at least he’d keep the benefits of the demon. Angel still managed the whole saving people thing with his family, without the immortality. Captain Forehead to the rescue – bloody hell did he need a drink.

Finding a bar was as easy as throwing a stick. He picked the closest one, heading in after a group yammering about something. Losing a crew or two. The young girl bitched to the guy in charge. He ignored them for a bit, but really, hearing how you’ve got nothing to keep you warm was a sure fire way to get his attention.

“I could stand to hear a little more,” said the man who looked a bit too much like that creep from Wolfram and Hart. What was his name? Another problem with lasting through the years – you tend to forget the names. He remembered the important ones, made sure to keep a journal of the important stuff. Angel even left him some drawings when he finally passed, which helped. Now that he was thinking about it, the other guy looked something like the First, if at least a little kind (which really wasn’t hard), but the big woman who could probably kick _his_ ass looked way too much like Jasmine for his tastes. Those stories from Angel really sank in it seemed.

“Hurry up,” Spike said, waving his arms at them to get the hell out of his way.

Jasmine-light turned to glare at him, but the others moved on. Spike did his best to return it, but she quickly turned before he felt the need to let his demon out a little. He didn’t carry any weapons so he skipped that part and headed straight to the bar. Big brooder sat a few stools down, nursing some kind of awful.

That was another of one of his largest complaints – the future’s alcohol sucked. Yeah, there was good stuff and he was used to the dregs, but Spike missed the days when you could just find a good bar or pub and the pint would actually taste like something. Spike ordered one round, figuring that bad beer was still beer, even if it tasted like piss. Once served he grabbed it and turned to look out on the rest of the bar.

Anywhere, anytime, bars and pubs never changed. Still pissholes run by thugs. Still a good place to get into a brawl when the urge to hit someone. The Slayer (yes, they were back down to only one) was somewhere off on the Outer Rim, but he made nice with the Council long ago just to make sure she didn’t kill him on sight. Which, given now that he had a soul and all that baggage would be a waste.

A young girl, couldn’t have been more than Buffy’d been when she fought the First walked to the center of the room. Others moved around her, but Spike kept an eye on the girl with rivers of curls. She stared up at one of the adverts, tilting her head slightly. But he saw it. All the years of fighting Slayers and vamps and demons, he knew the moments when the fight took over. He slammed his beer on the bar as she dropped her coat to the floor.

Spike dodged a running patron and threw another out of her way as the girl flowed through kicks and slams. She took out two mercs with ease, her fists slamming into them, and would have dropped a third had he not pulled the guy back. She spun, striking a table as people fled from her. She moved like a Slayer, but there was no demon in her, or at least none he knew. Something else pushed her forward; something else strung her along.

“Easy there, love,” Spike said as he stepped in front of her to block a punch. She froze with the weight of her forearm resting against his. Her eyes searched him, digging past the memories like Druisilla used to. God, he hadn’t thought of her in –

The girl grabbed his arm with both of hers and flipped him onto his back. He landed with a thud, broken glass cutting into his back. Another shmuck flew over him into a table as the girl kept dancing around them. He scrambled back up, concentrating on her now.

She kept fighting, tossing off a whole group this time. Spike moved in as they fell, now trying to strike her instead of just restrain. For all his speed and strength, she kept him on his toes and countered him – or he simple missed. He wasn’t trying to hurt her, he couldn’t, not with how she kept looking at him. Just like Dru used to. He bounced back from a particular blow, sliding across the floor. The large man from the bar tried to grapple with her, but she just bent forward, throwing him over her shoulder. The guy slammed into the ground and rolled over, or at least tried to. Another man scrambled up the stairs and began to riffle through the wheel of weapons for his case. Spike hopped back to his feet and lunged for her.

“In death, he has a name,” she whispered to him as he wrapped his arms around her chest and neck. She relaxed a bit in his grip but her feet still kicked wildly beneath her.

“What?” Spike asked. He didn’t release her – training with Buffy and Faith taught him the fine art of banter and combat – but it distracted him almost as much a well hit groin shot. He felt it inside of his chest, the type of sound you don’t look for until it’s gone, the type of feeling you don’t know about until you can’t name it anymore. He felt it. _He felt._  

“In death, he has a name,” she repeated, staring now up at him with those soulful eyes of hers. “He…he’s been dead for a long time, but still he walks.” His heart, his blessed, human heart pounded, and for the first time in centuries blood rushed through him as the thirst died away.  “Alone and blood. Alone and fire. Alone and pain.”

“I was. But not anymore. ”

“I saw you coming.” She spun, kicking another attacker away but her eyes seemed to remain on him. “You waited and went the long way. Is the wait over?”

“Not too much longer love,” he said, offering her what he hoped gentle smile. He felt the demon still inside him burning away as his heart pumped and pumped.

Before she could respond, a man in a too-clean shirt shouted from the top of the stairs: “Eta kooram nah smech!” The strings holding her up were cut and she collapsed into his arms. He pulled her close. She wasn’t hurt just…asleep.

“Hand her over.” Spike turned slightly to look at the man who was climbing the stairs and working to find his gun. Seems the extra few seconds worked in his favor as the thing was now pointed at him.

“Not on your life,” Spike growled. He would have shifted, but a gun was pointed at him and he wasn’t ready to find out how mortal he truly was.

“Not askin’ you again,” the man said, cocking the pistol. Spike reached out, faster than the man could anticipate. He grabbed the weapon and tossed it away. Of course, the others started to point guns at him, but at least he took care of his immediate concern.

“I just found her, and I am not leaving her,” Spike growled. The girl shifted closer to him, her face moving to rest against his neck. Her breath was hot against his neck where the words wrapped around him.

The words covered his neck where he had been bitten by Angelus all those years ago. Now, the scars were branded over by her words. They appeared a little over eighteen years ago, and just his luck, he’d find another girl barely out of her youth to fall in love with. Because that’s what he did. He did it as William, William the Bloody, and as Spike. He fell fast and he fell hard.

“Sir, I can take him,” Jasmine-like said from a few feet behind him. Apparently the guy he was facing down was in charge. Good to know.

“No,” the man who knocked out his marked hurried down the stairs. “What did you say to her?”

“Simon, what are you doing?” The girl who spoke of getting her nethers twixted moved into his line of sight.

The man named Simon glanced at her but quickly returned his focus onto Spike, “What did you say to her?”

“I said, ‘Easy there, love,’” Spike said. He knew the truth, more than they did. He found his soulmate, and nothing they said could tell his beating heart otherwise. Simon’s shoulders relaxed, and whatever tension he had drained out of him.

“We need to get out of here.” Simon turned toward the man who pointed the pistol at him. “He can come with, but we need to go.”

“ _Cái bù shì_. I don’t know this _jaspon_ from Adam,” the man said. “He’s staying.”

“Mal, he said my sister’s words.” Simon stood his ground.

“ _Tāmāde_.” Mal ran a hand over his face. “One sign of trouble, you get spaced.”  Spike moved a bit, sensing the others lowing their weapons.

“Fine by me,” Spike said. “Lead the way.” He lifted River up and she curled into him. Her head rested against the crock of his neck, a warm breath gently brushing his words. He had no idea who these fools were, but he’d jumped into worse fires without warning. Ultimately, he was a survivor, and he made it here with his sanity almost completely intact, only to have a girl who somehow fought like Buffy and talked like Dru speak his words. Really, Angel must be rolling over in his grave at this.

Still, Spike lived through a Hellmouth, nearly a dozen wars, and humanity’s first attempts to get out of their solar system. He survived all that more, so really,what’s the worst that could happen now that she found him?

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing except the plot.
> 
> Pairing was on the recommendation of VioletArroyo. Up next? Either Jemma/Willow or Xander/River. Or something else. Such is the joy of writing. 
> 
> If you have a pairing you'd like read, please let me know. Anyone from anything by Whedon is fair game, so let me know.
> 
> Good night and good luck.


End file.
